I couldn’t help a small moan escaping me.
“You okay?” Marco asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I said.
“Lean out the window.
“Right. Fresh air is good.”
Dana frowned at me in the mirror. “It is. And if the fresh air doesn’t do it, can you kinda lean forward to do your business?”
“Your sympathy for my condition is overwhelming.”
“Sorry. But I just got this thing detailed.”
As crappy as I felt, I leaned, feeling like a dog out for a joy ride as I stuck my head into the wind.
I’m happy to say that by the time we reached Gardenia, I had managed to keep breakfast down. Though my hair was a windblown mess. I sighed in relief, doing a quick pat-down on my bangs as we pulled up to the address on the receipt.
“Whoa,” Dana said, turning into a long driveway paved in sleek grey pavers. “This place is massive.”
She was right. As the trees parted ahead of us, a wide, brick structure appeared. Wood beams crisscrossed over the facade, and two massive turrets rose up on either end of the building before it gave way to both east and west wings flanking the property. An oversized mahogany door with ornate carvings stood in the center, a stone carving of a raven hovering over it just below the eaves. It was a cross between California Spanish style architecture and a gothic fairy tale.
Dana pulled to a stop just to the right of the building. “Clearly our Daddy slash Sugar Daddy has money,” she said as we got out and clomped up the stone walkway.
I agreed, wondering which stick figure it was that had belonged to this place – the dead girl or the friend.
I knocked on the wooden door, hearing the sound echo through the interior. We waited a couple of beats before the sound of footsteps on the other side indicated we’d been heard.
The door swung open and we were greeted by a guy that was tall, well over six feet, dressed in a pair of black slacks with crisp pleats and a white dress shirt. Though the shirt was un-tucked, the top two buttons open, and his feet were bare as if we’d either caught him getting dressed or in the middle of unwinding from a long night.
But my gaze was quickly torn from his clothing choice. Because as he opened his mouth to ask, “May I help you?” two smooth, sharp fangs shone brightly below his upper lip.
Chapter Five
I blinked, hardly hearing what he was saying, my eyes fixated on the fangs staring back at me. I repeat… fangs. Two tiny punctures wounds in Alexa’s neck, two pointy teeth staring back at me. What were the chances they were unrelated?
Dana must have seen the same thing as she elbowed me in the ribs. “Dude,” she whispered.
My thoughts exactly.
“Uh, I’m sorry, what?” I asked, forcing my attention away from the guy’s teeth as I vaguely registered him talking to us.
He smiled, showing off the possible murder weapons again. “I asked how I could help you?”
“Oh. Right. Um, yeah.” I cleared my throat, trying to focus on anything but teeth. “Uh, we’re looking for Sebastian Black.”
“You found him,” he informed me.
“Oh.” I’ll admit, I was surprised. He was hardly the Daddy figure I’d been envisioning. Or the sugar daddy for that matter.
While the fangs had clearly been the attention suckers up front, I paused to take in the rest of him. He had jet black hair, cropped close to his head and gelled into a mass of tiny spikes that gave off a dangerous and oddly alluring vibe. While the vampire stereotype was pale skin, his was warmly colored to a California tan. In contrast to his dark looks, his eyes were a pale, brilliant blue, staring out at me beneath lashes that were long enough to make a make-up model jealous. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his demeanor the type of relaxed calm that only people who lived in multi-million dollar homes without mortgages could afford.
“So,” he said, as I silently studied him, “was there something you wanted of me?” He punctuated the prompt with a smile. I wished he’d stop doing that. It was eerily distracting.
“We’re looking into the death of Alexa Weston,” I said.
The smile faded instantly from his face. “You’re police officers?” he asked, his gaze flicking momentarily to Marco’s fedora.
Dana shook her head beside me. “Not exactly. We’re affiliated with Crush. The nightclub where she died?”
Sebastian nodded. “I see.”
“You knew Alexa?” I asked.
Again he nodded. “Perhaps you’d better come in.”
I hesitated. Wasn’t accepting an invitation to a vampire’s house one of those things that meant he could suck your blood? Or was it inviting one into your house? Damn, it had been too long since I’d watched
Reluctantly, I stepped over the threshold of the open door as Sebastian held it open, feeling Dana and Marco do the same behind me.
While the outside of the home may have resembled an old-world villa, the interior of the house was all modern Hollywood. Clean lines, sleek furnishings in organic materials, and a muted color palate. The floors were a cool, white marble, the walls a soft beige, and the artwork hanging in all directions done in large scale black and white photos of abstract architectural shapes. The overall effect was clean and crisp, yet with just enough touch of warmth to be inviting.
We followed as Sebastian led us into a room to the right where a pair of low, modern sofas in plush chenille and a pair of arm chairs sat beside an enormous window overlooking the valley. Sebastian sank into one of the chairs. “Please, have a seat,” he instructed, motioning to the sofa.
I did, perching on the edge, a little afraid that I might not be able to get up if The Bump and I sank too far in.
“Tell us about Alexa,” Dana said, jumping right in as she sat down next to me.
Sebastian lifted the corner of his mouth ever so slightly. But instead of answering turned to me and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
I cleared my throat, (a third time, for anyone who was counting), unnerved under his icy blue gaze. “Maddie. Maddie Springer. And these are my friends, Dana and Marco,” I said gesturing beside me.
But Sebastian’s level eyes never left mine. “Very pleased to meet you, Maddie.”
Why the sound of his voice running over my name should send a chill up my spine, I had no idea. But the way the word rolled off his tongue was slow, soft and almost sensual. I found myself shifting in my seat, suddenly as fidgety as a five-year-old.
“Now that the introductions are taken care of, want to answer the question?” Dana pressed.
Sebastian’s eyes lingered on me just a moment too long before slowly turning to my friend. “What do you want to know about Alexa?”
“For starters, what is your relationship to Alexa?”
“Alexa was an employee of mine,” he answered.
“In what capacity?” Dana asked.
“She was an actress.”
“So, you’re a producer?” I asked.
Confusion must have been clear in my voice as he turned to me with that half smile pulling at his lips again. “Of sorts. I produce events. Parties, I supposed you could call them. Specialty parties for a special set of clientele.”
